


Family

by spookysu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Depression, Faeries - Freeform, Fairies, Gen, Goblins, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, More sad shit, Ogres, Oni, Sirens, Suicide, Suicide Attempts, Tengu, Youkai, Yôkai, i mean the first part was worse but g o d s, this was just agonizing to write i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookysu/pseuds/spookysu
Summary: Some people don’t want to be saved, but should be anyway.Inktobercommission for ZeroInvador for the prompt Ship.The Portuniverse. Sequel toA Wish of DeathandThe Woman Who Walks the Shore.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeroInvador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroInvador/gifts).



At least, I figured those would be my last thoughts. I was on a wooden surface, something moving. Water spurted from my mouth. A man’s hands were on my soaked chest.

“She’s breathing!” he cried out.

I tried to open my eyes. I was on a ship! Some sailors must have found my unconscious body.

And they saved my life.

I remembered falling unconscious; my willpower was enough to keep me under the wild waves of the Pacific. But I wasn’t sure how I was brought to the deck.

Nor did I know what a bunch of humans would want with me.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to sit up. One of the men put a warm blanket around my shoulders. “What’s your name, girl?” he asked me.

Speaking English gave me so much anxiety. It was such an unpredictable language. Wishing I had Shuten, our resident linguist, on hand, I said, “Tora.” At least my name worked in both languages.

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“Suicide attempt,” I said, trying to keep my responses brief in fear of messing up my English.

“Why the hell would you go and try that?” he asked, his sea-colored eyes wide with concern.

“Brady, please,” the other seaman said, clapping his comrade on the shoulder. “She’s obviously in shock. And she ain’t human. She’s probably been through hell.” The other man kneeled before me. He looked to be the opposite of Brady, his long hair and beard grey instead of black, eyes the color of coal instead of water. Aside from that, they were identical white men, skin destroyed by sea mist and sun.

“I’m Scott,” he said, holding out his hand. “A buncha sirens handed your body to us.”

I choked on my own air in alarm. “Sirens?”

“They found your body sinking and thought you were in an accident. Saw what you were and got quite the scare. Brought you to us.”

Self-conscious, I eyed the still water, and could’ve sworn I saw a woman’s face beneath the surface, but when I blinked, she was gone.

Sirens were merciless creatures, drowning men for pleasure, but when I thought about it, I was no different; I tried to rid the world of abusers by murdering guilty men and feasting on their blood, feeding the remaining flesh to Eloise. Perhaps they saw that we were similar and found me worthy of saving? I wasn’t sure.

But I was livid. I tried to tell them how I felt, but the language that fell from my tongue was Oni, and they didn’t understand a lick of it.

“Where do you live? Let’s take you back to your family.”

I lost it then. I burst into tears and collapsed into a ball, hugging my knees. “Dead!” I gasped.

“Your family is dead?” Scott asked, putting an arm around you.

“Where do you live, then?” Brady followed up.

I lifted my eyes, sniffling, and could see Eloise from the deck and gestured toward it.

“Listen, Tora,” Scott said gently, holding my ocean-soaked hands, “your family may be gone, but you can always find a new family. The world changes, and so do people. Mates come and go. But I can tell you’re a warrior, and so can those sirens there.”

I heard giggling and splashing in the distance.

“I don’t know your family, but I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to follow in death. They’d want you to survive and keep fighting in their honor.” He lowered the collar of his tattered shirt, revealing a nasty scar above his heart. “I was like you once. My whole crew died in a shipwreck. I tried to hang myself, but it went horribly wrong. I was rescued by sirens, much like you were, and it taught me that there was a reason I’m still around.”

Maybe I was wrong about sirens, just as many humans were wrong about my kind. Sirens clearly weren’t merciless. I wiped away a stray tear, cursing my racism.

“We’ll take you home. Get some rest. I can smell that you’re drunk. Let it wash over you like the waves,” Brady added.

I laid on the deck, too worn out to try to say more, and watched the clouds go by as they brought me back to shore. They helped me on the dock before Eloise, made sure I was steady on my feet, and waved good-bye before heading back out to sea.

I was sure I’d never see them again, but I was grateful, somehow. Cursing my soul for wanting to survive, I headed back indoors.

I headed straight for the showers to try to scrub the sea grime off of me. Perhaps I would feel better if I got clean. It took a long time to finally get the willpower to get dressed; I simply laid on my futon and stared at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed. Not the nice iPhone Angela, the kitsune who invited me to live in Eloise, gave me on her phone plan, but the flip phone I used for clients.

I rolled onto my stomach and checked the messages. One of my clients texted me asking if I was available at seven.

I checked the clock. It was around six-thirty.

“Short notice,” I replied.

“Not really. I texted you this morning. Where have you been?”

I sighed and didn’t answer. “I’ll get ready. See you soon.”

I got my opium ready for smoking and found my sexiest clothes for entertaining him as I heard noises from downstairs. Was Eloise expanding? Did Angela have guests?

I heard four voices—one with an Irish accent, a very quiet one that was hard to understand, and two loud voices with the odd American dialect of Oni in their voices.

Modern oni children?

I poked out of the window to see four young women unloading a beat-up orange Ford truck. The tallest was a tengu, but she was clearly the weakest and left all the heavy-lifting to a beefy, blonde oni. She gave a peck on the cheek to a tiny ginger, and my heart leaped.

They reminded me so much of Hoshi and Shuten.

It couldn’t be them; the redhead seemed far too tiny and studious, and the taller of the two seemed to be far happier. Perhaps they had matured. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking that they were reincarnations of my old family.

I took a hit from my pipe and watched as the redhead, giggling, mock-bench-pressed a moving box before tackling her girlfriend to the sand. A grey faerie—the one with the Irish accent—bitched at them to get up and be helpful, and the tengu teasingly pushed her into the tackle pile before covering her mouth in apology.

They seemed like a fun group.

Maybe I would find a new family, after all…

 


End file.
